Desi Horror Stories

Shooting Bungalow

Siddhesh's boss had given him simple instructions. She had called him up and said, "Siddhesh, we have done the recce of a bungalow in Panvel for our horror movie. It's exactly what the director wants. You have to go there in the evening and wait. Buy some provisions. You might have to stay there for three days. The crew is shooting nearby on another project; they will finish it and come to the bungalow. Remember—stay in the bungalow only. If you miss the crew and they go back, you'll have hell to pay. And, also, take your phone with you and keep it charged at all times."

Though simple, it was a weird instruction. Why did he have to stay for three days? Anyway, he was a spotboy and this was his job. The movie was a big project and there was the prospect of staying in the bungalow all alone! That part was always fun. He called his friend Ali and asked him if he'd come along. Ali, though immediately keen, had to deliver his sister to her husband's house first. "I'll follow right behind," he said.

And so, Siddhesh reached Mayur Villa at around 7 in the evening. The name was out in front and there was a small setup of a shrine in the courtyard. He pushed the gate and looked up at the two-storied bungalow. There was still some daylight, but the white bungalow against the orange sun looked every bit like the haunted house the crew was looking for. He only hoped he wouldn't be haunted for real!

He came into the hall (the door was unlocked) and kept his bag down by the door. He switched on the light—an old tube light—and paced around the hall which had fading pink paint on its walls. "Hello, is anyone here?" he asked. There was no reply, but the echo of his voice returning to him sent a chill down his spine.

With nothing to do, he settled himself. He decided to stay only in the hall and not go in any of the other rooms. Sure it was spooky, he would not deny it. The house was so far removed from the nearest road that even the traffic sounds did not reach here.

He called up his producer on his cell phone. "Hello, Khushnood ma'am, I have reached the bungalow. There's no one here. When will the crew come? Any contact?"

Khushnood laughed. "Scared, are you? Well, stay there. They might come tonight or even tomorrow morning. Keep the lights on and sleep. Nothing will happen."

Siddhesh disconnected the phone and turned to take his toothbrush out of his bag. But his hand fell on the cold ground instead of the bag. He shivered as he saw—his bag was not where he had kept it. It was now at the other end of the room, a portion where he hadn't even gone.

"Damn you, Ali, where are you?" he said on the phone the next moment. "Come fast, man."

"Yes, yes, starting now. I'll be there in a couple of hours," Ali said.

Siddhesh decided that if he stayed put in that one spot only and did not move, nothing would happen. There was something here in this bungalow. He'd have run out of it had there not been the thing about the crew. And, truth be told, he was no less scared of Khushnood ma'am.

Hours passed. He made three calls to Ali, and every time he said he was on the way. But it was close to midnight now and the place was closing in on him. Even the chirruping of the night insects raised his hair on end. He didn't even dare to blink; each time he did that, there seemed to be some strange sound from somewhere in the house.

When tiredness overcame him, he spread out a mat on the floor and laid down with a sheet over him. From the floor, he could see the closed doors of the rooms on the upper floor. They made his imagination run riot. What could be in those rooms? He shuddered, and then he turned to face the other side. His eyes had almost closed when he suddenly woke up; something wet and cold had touched his leg.

With a start, he sat up. In front of him was a large black dog, its pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. Siddhesh chuckled. "It's just a doggie. Relax, doggie. And thanks for coming. You are some kind of company at least." He stretched his arm to touch the dog, but the poor creature probably did not trust this man. It turned its tail and bounded out of the door.

"Where the hell are you, Ali?" Siddhesh said again on the phone. He saw the time; it was one in the morning and his sleep was all gone.

"What do you mean?" Ali shouted back. "I came all the way to this darned Mayur Villa. I came in through the gate, waited for half an hour, and left. Tried calling you but your phone was unreachable."

"What nonsense! I am right here."

"Bloody hell! This is not the time to play pranks, Sid. Bastard! I am so tired today and you think of pranks? Don't call me again."

Ali disconnected the phone furiously, and Siddhesh flung his phone in a bout of rage. It fell near the dog and he whimpered. "At least you will be with me tonight," he said.

Just then, there was a loud thudding from inside the house. Siddhesh ran inside to check, his legs suddenly shaking. He entered the house and was bewildered at what he saw—the crew was in the house now. They were setting up the props. Five men lumbered around the house, setting things right, arranging furniture, and the stands for their cameras and other equipment. Someone called out to him, "Hey, boy, what are you doing there? Give me a hand." Siddhesh ran up to him, glad that he was no longer alone. But as he helped the guy set up the strobe light, he wondered how these men had entered the house. Surely there was no other entry to the house.

The director started taking pictures. He moved around with a handheld camera and took a lot of pictures. "We will send them to the producer right away. Hey, you guys stand in for the actors. You boy, you stand too. It's all dummy work. Real work is tomorrow." He took the pictures and immediately sent them. The next moment a message arrived. He read it out loud: Pics are good. But make some guys stand as dummies for the actors and let's see.

There was sudden silence in the room. "What is she talking about?" he guffawed. "Can't she see the people in the pics?" He checked the pictures again. And as he did that, the color on his face vanished.

"What black magic is this?" he screamed as he showed the pics to all. Siddhesh saw it then—the pictures had no people in it. None of them. Not even him.

Just then, there was a thud above them. Then another happened, and another, and followed by many more. The sounds were coming from the rooms above. The crew and Siddesh all huddled together, terrified now. The next moment, the doors broke open and out of them rushed forth a mass of people. Dozens upon dozens of them—men, women, and children. They kept coming out, defying the logic that such small rooms could not hold so many people, and soon they numbered in hundreds. And from among them a little boy emerged. "Oh, there's Blackie!" he said as the dog bounded up to him.

"What is this place?" Siddhesh asked one of the men who came out. He was a nerdy man with glasses.

"Oh, are you new?" the man asked.

"Am I dead? Are we ghosts?" Suddenly, he felt no fear.

"No," the man in glasses shook his head. "We are in another dimension, a parallel reality. That's what this is. This house. And make your peace with it, for there is no way to go back."

Siddhesh trembled as he was squeezed by thousands of people in that one little house. And it was in that moment that he realized he would never die. But of what use was his immortality?